Lead the Way, Señor Zorro
by IcyWaters
Summary: Captured by bandidos, Diego de la Vega and Ricardo del Amo must set aside their egos and work together to stay alive. That is if they don't kill each other first. Based on the Walt Disney Zorro series.


Disclaimer: This story is based upon characters appearing in the Walt Disney Zorro television series. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. I don't own 'em, I'm just a fan wanting to keep the spirit of a favorite show alive.

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to the venerable Richard Anderson. From Ricardo del Amo to Oscar Goldman to the other roles in his impressive filmography, I practically grew up watching him on television.

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**Lead the Way, Señor Zorro**

by  
IcyWaters

Diego stared down the barrel of the pistol.

For a fleeting second, he wondered if he would even see the powder spark or the lead ball hurtling toward his forehead if the bandido squeezed the trigger. Would he feel any pain? Swallowing hard, he forced the disconcerting thoughts away and firmed his composure. Morbid reflections were not going to get him out of this mess.

Instead, he concentrated on his captors.

Gaspar's aim never wavered. His arm, steady as a rock, extended straight out in front of him while his compañero secured the manacle on their prisoner's left wrist. Built like a grizzly bear, Gaspar looked like one, too, complete with unkempt black hair and a beard suitable for a bird's nest. When Itzal finished the task, Gaspar lowered the weapon, smirked and shoved the fancily dressed caballero to the dirt.

Diego landed with a grunt, his back hitting a stub on a fallen log. Gaspar loomed over him; the giant's shadow provided some respite from the blazing afternoon sun. Diego peered at the unconscious form to his left as Itzal latched the free end of the chain to their other prisoner. Praying his friend was not hurt too badly, his gaze traced past the two bandidos to their leader.

Perched on a flat boulder shaded by a tree on the far side of the camp, Valerio watched the scene with arrogant amusement. Two more compañeros remained close to him, the names of which Diego did not catch, securing the horses and retrieving food from the saddlebags.

Itzal straightened. The lanky hombre reminded Diego of a weasel. "Why do we not kill them?"

"You were not in the plaza with me the other day. We have an esteemed guest in our midst." Valerio crossed the distance and kicked Diego's thigh. He possessed a smooth voice and clean-cut appearance, a stark contrast to his cruel nature. "This caballero is none other than the son of Don Alejandro de la Vega."

"De la Vega?" Gaspar repeated. "He is the wealthiest landowner in California."

"Sí. Did I mention Diego here is an only child? De la Vega will pay a pretty centavo to reclaim his heir." Valerio twirled the knife in his fingers and crouched next to his hostage, resting the blade on Diego's cheek. "He will pay extra not to have the handsome face scarred."

The unconscious figure stirred awake with a soft moan. Blinking hard, Ricardo started to massage his tender scalp when the three-foot length of chain halted his reach. "Ugh, what happened?"

"What about him?" Itzal asked.

Valerio stood. "We shall see. First, we have a ransom note to deliver. Andrés," he called to the man tending the horses, "fetch me paper, quill and ink. Oh, and the pocket watch we relieved Diego of earlier." Andrés retrieved the items from a saddlebag.

Itzal followed Valerio to the flat boulder. "How much do you think we can get?"

"We do not want to be too greedy. The longer we are here, the more likely we are to run into soldiers. I figure he should be able to raise ten thousand pesos in the next twenty-four hours."

A low whistle escaped Andrés' lips. "Since when do hacendados keep that much lying around?"

Valerio grinned. "Diego does not seem stunned by the amount. His father has it—or can raise it from his friends. Do you think our guest appears offended at this minimal request?"

The bandidos glanced knowingly between one another.

"For his insolence, let us make it fifteen thousand pesos." As they all laughed, Valerio wrote the ransom note and passed it along with the watch to Andrés. "Do you know where the de la Vega rancho is?"

"Sí, but—"

"But what?"

"Alejandro de la Vega is renowned for his temper," Andrés replied. "How do I know I will not end up dead or behind bars?"

"Simple." Valerio held Diego's stare. "Tell him that for every hour you are late in returning, his son loses a finger. When I run out of fingers, I shall deliver to him his son's head in a box."

"I'm glad I'm not you, Diego," Ricardo whispered.

Diego almost wanted to laugh.

Once Andrés rode off, Valerio stood over his prisoners. "Jaime," he said to the bandido tending the food, "Start lunch. If you think I am bluffing, Diego, think again. We are having fresh beef. There is a little rancho about five miles from here. The owner was slaughtering a cow, but did not wish to share his bounty with us." He motioned to Itzal, who brought him a bloody sword. "We had to teach the señor a lesson in manners. You and your amigo came along, interrupting my cleaning of this fine weapon."

Diego's stomach churned and he had to look away, eliciting a twisted laugh from the bandido leader. Valerio turned and growled when he saw Jaime had stopped. "What is wrong with you?"

"This is Zorro's territory."

"Ah, the elusive fox. If he shows his masked face, we will collect an additional two thousand pesos. Now quit dawdling and get the fire going."

Less than an hour later, the aroma of the roast sizzling in the pan made Diego hungry and sick all at once. He sympathized with the cut of beef as he sweltered in the sun. Sweat beaded on his brow and he wished he had his hat. Under Gaspar's vigilant guard, he loosed his cravat and collar. Provoking no reprimand, he then drew his long legs to his chest and rested his forearms on his knees.

Ricardo tried to follow suit only the chain wasn't long enough. A sharp tug pulled Diego's left wrist from atop his knee. Glaring at his friend, Diego tugged the chain, yanking Ricardo's hand from his knee.

The clinking metal earned Diego a kick from Gaspar.

Both men settled against the tree trunk, their chained wrists resting in the dirt. The bandidos took turns smiling at their prisoners as they savored their banquet. Itzal even wandered closer, waving a tender bite of meat under their noses. He plopped it into his mouth with an exaggerated "mmm."

Approaching hoof beats sent the bandidos diving for cover with their weapons. Andrés returned. Dismounting, he rubbed his jaw. "Madre de Dios, that hombre has the temper of a devil. Otherwise, it went well." He plopped next to the fire and began eating the remnants.

Valerio approached Diego and backhanded him hard across the jaw. "It is only fair we return the favor."

"Hey," Ricardo cried, but the pistol Gaspar pressed to his temple quieted him.

Massaging the side of his face, Diego tasted blood in his parched mouth. Knowing Ricardo had to be equally thirsty, he decided now was as good a time as any to engage them. "May I have a drink of water?"

The bandidos laughed as they finished their food.

"They say a man can live for three days without water." Itzal relished a long gulp. "It has only been a few hours. You will survive—if your father pays."

Anger flared in Diego. "My father will pay handsomely for my safe return. Deliver a dead son to him and he will hunt you to the ends of the earth as long as there is a breath in his body."

Valerio regarded him with a wry grin. "The puppy has bite. Give him a drink."

Diego took the canteen from Gaspar and removed the cork. After savoring the cool liquid on his throat, he passed it to Ricardo only to have the beast snatch it from his grip.

"What about me?" Ricardo asked.

"What about you?" Valerio replied. "You are no one to me. Perhaps I should let Itzal kill you."

"I am Ricardo del Amo. My father is the wealthiest hacendado in San Francisco. He will pay as much for my safe return as Don Alejandro will for his son. I am gold in your pocket, Señor."

Valerio seemed to contemplate this until he knelt and pressed the knife to Ricardo's throat, pinning his prey awkwardly against the log. Blood trickled down Ricardo's neck. "My compañeros and I are not heading to San Francisco, so you are nothing but dead weight to us."

"Wait," Diego shouted, lurching for the knife. Gaspar shoved him against the log. "If you kill my friend, my father will not give you a centavo. Let him drink." His glare never wavered. "Let him drink."

"For a man who does not wear a sword or carry a pistol, you have cojones, Diego. I admire that." Valerio's gaze shifted to Ricardo. "I wonder what you did to deserve such loyalty from your amigo." At the curious reaction, he further explained. "After Itzal knocked you out, your mounts scattered. Diego carried you across the desert so we would not leave your carcass for the buzzards." Valerio rose to his feet. "Let him drink, too."

Hours ticked by. It was the only sip of water they were permitted.

Golden hues colored the sky as the sun sank lower on the horizon. Diego savored the cooling breeze on his bruised cheek and the solace of the night. Once darkness settled around them, he and Ricardo stood a better chance of escaping.

Itzal took over guard duty from Gaspar while the remaining bandidos conferred by the flat boulder to play cards. When the weasel-like hombre relaxed against a bedroll several feet away, Ricardo leaned closer and whispered, "Lolita will never believe us."

"That is what you are concerned about?"

"If we are going to die, I prefer to die with an image of a beautiful señorita on my mind."

Diego suppressed a snort. Scooting forward a bit, he rested his head against the log. Rough bark chafed his skin, so he instinctively moved his left arm to prop his head on. The abrupt tug reminded him of the chain.

Ricardo yanked his wrist back. His expression dared Diego to object.

Scowling, Diego refused to yield so much as an inch. He was hot, tired and sore from carrying one hundred eighty pounds across two miles of desert. As far as he was concerned, this was all Ricardo's fault to begin with. He would be damned if he was going to let the practical joker get comfortable at his expense.

Diego wrenched his arm away, unbalancing his fellow prisoner who toppled over. As they fought for position, a single shot resounded. Both dons froze, the bullet digging into the earth between them.

Valerio lowered the pistol. "Andrés, get the rope."

As night fell, that was how Diego and Ricardo found themselves back to back, bound tightly at the chest. Coarse fibers dug into the flesh of the once free wrists now lashed together. Even as their heads knocked while squirming to find the least unpleasant position, Diego was just grateful his cravat was used as a gag instead of a filthy bandana.

Beneath the stars, a coyote's howl pierced the air. Ricardo stiffened, bumping noggins again, and a low grown caught in Diego's throat. On a positive note, his friend was awake.

Itzal climbed to the small bluff overlooking the campsite while Jaime took first watch. Valerio, Andrés and Gaspar retired under the tree. Clouds drifted in front of the moon and the last embers of the fire began dying out. The unmoving silhouettes across the way signaled the trio was sound asleep.

Jaime, however, sat propped on the bedroll directly across from Diego glaring at the captives.

Diego closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. When he heard snoring after what seemed an eternity later, he snuck a peek. Jaime nodded off. Sneaking a glance above, he observed the weasel-like figure slumping forward from his perch atop the bluff.

Wiggling his arms, Diego managed to slide one loop of rope over his shoulders. It provided enough slack so he could work the knot at their wrists. Ricardo caught on and they untied their binds.

Both men rose to their feet, mindful of the chain while massaging life into their legs. Diego continued to keep an eye on Itzal as they crept away—only Ricardo chose the opposite direction, yanking them back. They froze, not daring to breathe at the clink of the chain.

None of the bandidos stirred.

Diego pointed to the small path leading away from the camp. Ricardo shook his head and pointed at the horses. Gritting his teeth, Diego reiterated the path. They continued arguing in silence until Diego shook a fist. He was ready to slug the joker and drag him to safety if need be. Ricardo sighed, throwing one hand in the air in surrender. Before he moved any further, he indicated the canteen at Jaime's elbow.

It was dangerous, but Diego knew they needed it. He nodded while motioning to make it quick. Ricardo snatched it, along with the saddlebag it flanked. Once out of the bandidos' earshot, Ricardo halted.

Jolted rearward, Diego growled. Spinning on his friend, he glanced at the bluff to ensure Itzal was still asleep. "We are going to have to set some rules." He raised his wrist for emphasis.

"Why didn't we steal the horses, Diego?"

"We couldn't even agree on which direction to travel. Do you really think we could have saddled a horse without alerting them? For that matter, can you picture us climbing in the saddle like this?"

Ricardo frowned. "Point taken."

"Let's keep moving before that charming fellow up there notices we are gone."

They pressed on until Itzal faded out of sight. Ricardo slowed his pace. "I am tired, I am hungry and I am thirsty. To top it off, I have a splitting headache. We can afford to rest for a moment."

Diego smiled softly. "I could use a respite, too." They found a small clearing and collapsed on the dirt.

Ricardo uncorked the canteen and tilted his head back for a large gulp. To Diego's surprise, his friend drew the upside down canteen away from his lips. Not a single drop descended.

"Great, just great," Ricardo muttered, tossing it aside.

"What is in the saddlebag?"

Ricardo rummaged through the contents, extracting one garment after another. "The del Amo luck failed me again. Nothing but clothes. Is it too much to ask they leave a spare pistol lying around? I would feel better with a weapon."

Diego grinned and raised his wrist. "May I?" At the nod, he lifted the leg of his trousers and pulled a knife from his boot. "Fortunately, they did not search me thoroughly."

"It's good to know you aren't entirely a pacifist," Ricardo quipped. He retrieved his own knife. "Great minds think alike. However, I still prefer a firearm. Daggers are no match for swords, pistols and rifles."

"It is better than nothing."

Ricardo chuckled. "All this trouble for a woman and she isn't even our type."

"Is there a woman I do not know about?"

"I'm talking about the filly we were going to argue over."

Diego laughed quietly. "Ah, and there is the possibility neither of us would win her favor."

An elderly man living in Antelope Valley made waves when his chestnut filly, Arabella, won three substantial purses in as many months. Known only as Old Poncio, the man refused to sell his golden goose. Every hacendado in California yearned to add the magnificent bloodline—said to be part wild—to their stables. None were successful. When a rumor swirled in Los Angeles that Old Poncio might sell Arabella's sister, the competition heated up.

Alejandro refused to let anyone outmaneuver a de la Vega. He entrusted his son to come home with the beautiful horse. It just happened that Ricardo was visiting, heard the rumor and was eager to add the filly to the del Amo stables.

Following a full day of Diego and Ricardo playing practical jokes in an attempt to delay the other's progress, involving everything from itching powder to exploding cigars and shrunken clothes to sabotaged saddle cinches, they ended up sharing a cell in the cuartel for the night after a little incident in the tavern. From there, the two friends called a truce.

They agreed to ride to Antelope Valley together. No devious ploys.

Halfway to San Fernando, they encountered a man—Itzal—walking in the desert who claimed his mount had gone lame. Something felt off to Diego, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Leaving the señor alone without food or water was not an option. So they followed him to the injured animal.

Itzal led them right into the clutches of his compañeros.

"You know, Diego, I do not wish to be fussy considering our predicament, but this is really your fault."

Diego couldn't believe his ears. "My fault?"

"If you had jumped into action with me, we could have taken those hombres."

"We did not stand a chance. After robbing us, they would have shot us and left our bodies for the buzzards without a second thought. We should be grateful Valerio recognized me." Diego rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

"How can you be so certain of their motives?"

"Earlier this week, Sergeant Garcia received a dispatch from Capitán Echevarría, Commandante of San Fernando, warning him of a deadly gang of bandidos. Five men robbed two different stagecoaches on route to the pueblo. The drivers of both were murdered in cold blood, along with several passengers."

Ricardo let out a low whistle.

"Capitán Echevarría's men lost track of them in the mountains. He suspected they were heading south. Between our jokes and the race to get to Antelope Valley, it slipped my mind. We should have been better prepared."

He omitted that Zorro did not find any sign of them, leading him to further discount the threat.

"Maybe you're right, Diego, but this ordeal brings up another question that's been bothering me. When did all this pacifist nonsense start? As a child, your father couldn't keep you away from a sword."

Diego arched an eyebrow. "All that time in Monterey and it never occurred to you to ask why I no longer engage in fencing or wear a sword?"

"We were competing for the affections of a señorita." Ricardo shrugged. "I thought you were trying to differentiate yourself from me—a handsome, charming, sophisticated caballero—and Zorro."

Something in the way Ricardo looked at him when speaking the name unnerved Diego.

If Ricardo noticed the effect it had, he gave no indication. "Señoritas profess to deplore violence until their honor is tarnished. Then they expect us to spill our blood in defending it. I can see how such a ruse might be a temporary advantage."

"For your information, I learned to appreciate the arts while at the university. My professors taught me there are other ways to solve conflicts than violence."

"I hope your father got his money back for that education."

Diego snorted.

"So, how far are we from Los Angeles?"

"About fifteen miles," Diego replied.

"We won't make it that far," Ricardo said softly, gazing at the dark horizon.

It terrified Diego to realize his friend was right. He was not afraid to die, but he did not want to die like this. "Our horses will return home. Benito is one of the best trackers in California. He should be able to lead my father and the soldiers to the area. I pray they find us before the bandidos discover we are gone."

"There is another bright side." Ricardo grinned. "This is Los Angeles. Zorro will save us."

Diego stared agape at him for a long minute before laughter overwhelmed him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Diego managed to reply, catching his breath.

"Come on, let me in on the joke."

"There is no joke." Diego raised his right hand. "Honest. But do you not find it amusing that after all your encounters with Zorro—from the impersonation to the duel—you want him to save your life?"

"Look, Diego, I may not agree with Zorro hiding behind a mask, but he has proven himself an honorable caballero. Even with our history, I trust he won't leave us to die." Again, there was the unnerving look. "There would have to be a good reason for him not to come to our aid."

Diego smiled sadly and looked away.

"Do you have something you wish to tell me? You have not offended him, have you?"

"No. Zorro is probably closer than we think." Diego chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's out here laughing at us right now."

"Very funny."

"We should get going," Diego said, eager to change the subject.

They clambered to their feet and resumed the trek through open desert. Each man tucked his respective dagger into the sash at his waist for fast reach. Plodding over uneven dirt and stones, sidestepping bigger rocks and dry brush, Diego slowed when they approached a large agave. It was nearly six feet tall and equally wide. He noted with a mix of amusement and irritation that Ricardo aimed to go around it on the opposite side.

Diego halted.

Ricardo took two more steps when he was yanked backward. "Madre de Dios, at least give me some warning when you do that!" He rubbed his tender wrist.

More clouds moved in blocking the moonlight, but the agave and its thick, fleshy, pointed leaves loomed large. Diego gestured to the plant. "Do you not see this?"

"It's an agave. Want to make some tequila?"

"We were about to get perforated by taking opposing routes around it."

"So? You obviously took notice. Why didn't you just follow me?"

Diego sighed. "It's not just the agave. We need to work together if we are going to survive."

"Work together?" Ricardo snorted. "It seems like I have been taking orders from you all night."

"This is my home. I know the land."

"Well, I was born with an innate sense of direction. That sense of direction, which has served me well my entire life, tells me we are on the wrong path. We should be heading for a river."

"The closest river is at minimum five miles to the east over rougher territory. With the pueblo to the southwest, that takes us further away from the army patrols."

Ricardo massaged the nape of his neck. "Diego, we need water. Do you see any around here? We can walk on the riverbank, hiding our tracks should the bandidos wake sooner rather than later. Admit it is a good plan."

"Our best hope is my father and Sergeant Garcia." Not wanting to put more distance between them and a rescue party, Diego refused to admit Ricardo might be right. Sensing they could argue about this for hours, he took a different tactic. "You trust Zorro to rescue us. If I was Zorro, I would continue on the current path."

"You Zorro? Don't make me laugh."

Exhausted and pushed to his limits, Diego failed to stop the next words that rolled off his tongue. "Is it so farfetched that I could be Zorro?" At the snicker, he stalked closer until they stood nose to nose. "Zorro and I were in Monterey at the same time. Did you ever see us together? When we were children, I always—_always_—bested you with the sword. I know this terrain like the back of my hand. How do you think Zorro has been so successful? Studying a map?"

"Fine, Diego," Ricardo said. "You are the fox." He made a sweeping gesture with his left arm and bowed. "Lead the way, Señor Zorro."

Growling under his breath, Diego stormed off, dragging Ricardo, going his route around the agave. In his annoyance, he did not pay attention to his surroundings.

Dirt gave way under his feet.

Diego's eyes went wide as he fell down the slope. Ricardo yelped in surprise as he pitched forward. They tumbled fifteen feet down the incline, Diego landing hard on his back.

Seconds later, a heavy weight slammed into his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. After a few long moments, Ricardo pushed off and patted him on the shoulder.

"Gracias, Diego, for breaking my fall."

"De nada," Diego managed to rasp, grappling for breath.

Ricardo stood and hauled Diego to his feet. "That iron bracelet must have obscured the view to the back of your hand, Señor Zorro."

"Oh, shut up."

"There is something I have wanted to ask you. Why did you decline the offer of amnesty?"

Diego rubbed his bruised chest. "If you must know, my father stopped me."

"Don't implicate Don Alejandro in your crimes, Diego."

The admonishing tone was too much! What was worse—Ricardo not believing he was Zorro or merely indulging him? Feeling his checks flushing with anger, his nostrils flared. It elicited a hearty laugh from his friend. "I am glad you find this amusing."

"No matter how many pranks I pull on you, you never lose your composure. Oh, you may threaten to kill me, but you do it calmly and with a level head. There's no real passion behind the words. It's reassuring to learn you get irritable like the rest of us mortal men."

It was so absurd that Diego couldn't help but laugh.

"Just between us, I knew you wouldn't accept. You enjoy the ruse too much." Ricardo grinned. "Now what, Señor Zorro?"

"We put as much distance as we can between us and the bandidos. Do you smell that?"

Arching a curious eyebrow, Ricardo sniffed the air and shrugged. "Smells like rain."

"Exactly."

He stared uncomprehending at Diego. "It has the past few nights, but it dries before it hits the ground."

"Should it rain, it will undoubtedly wake our charming friends."

"I, for one, wouldn't mind if it did. At least we stand a chance of catching some water in our mouths." Ricardo glanced in the direction they came from. "If it's heavy enough, it will wash away our tracks—and our stench. Face it, we don't smell like roses."

"Ricardo—"

"Look at us, Diego. We are exhausted, filthy and thirsty. We are chained together. The bruise on your jaw matches the one on my head. Ruthless bandidos will probably shoot us at first sight. A little rain is the least of our problems." He spread his arms wide. "Short of getting hit by a bullet or losing a finger, how else could this night possibly get any worse?"

A thundering boom rattled the earth in the same instant a crack of lightning streaked across the heavens. The sky opened up. Torrential rain poured.

"You had to ask," Diego shouted over the deluge.

In minutes, they were soaked to the core, but they stood in the storm with heads tilted back and mouths wide open savoring the water on their parched throats. Nearby bolts of lightning sent the hairs on the nape of their necks on end. "We need to find cover," Diego yelled.

"I saw something over there."

Weaving between trees, Diego followed him to a grouping of boulders. A murky gap led to a cave. Pitch black, it was impossible to determine its size. In the blinding rain, he couldn't pinpoint their exact location. None of that mattered. It was dry. That was all that was important.

Their heavy breathing reverberated in the cavity, giving the impression of ample space. Diego pushed wet hair out of his eyes and leaned against the smooth wall. Sliding to the ground, he felt Ricardo joining him.

"Too bad we don't have a match," Ricardo said.

"And some firewood."

Heavy breathing continued to echo.

"Are you all right, Diego?"

"Sí, why do you ask?"

"You're breathing rather hard after playing cushion for me."

Diego stiffened. "That isn't you?"

A crack of lightning lit up the cave and both men's eyes grew wide upon seeing the big silhouette less than a stone's throw away. They scrambled to their feet as quietly as they could. The shape moved and a muffled growl sent them scurrying. Once outside, Ricardo broke into a run, dragging Diego behind him.

"Up the tree!"

Diego halted in his tracks. Ricardo nearly slipped as the chain drew taut.

"What are you stopping for, Diego? Get up the tree!"

"That's the worst place to be when it's lightning."

"I'll take my chances with lightning over a bear."

Low rumbling shook them to the bones. The distinct roar of a bear mixed with thunder sent the duo clambering up the tree. Ricardo clung to a branch above Diego.

They waited, scanning the area for their brief roommate in flashes of light, but no bear materialized. Ricardo let out a long sigh. "I think we're safe."

The words no sooner left his lips than a loud fracture pierced the air. Diego barely registered what was happening as he watched Ricardo plunge past him still hugging the branch—and the plummeting weight claimed him. Ricardo hit the ground first, Diego landing on top of him.

Groaning, Diego rolled to the side. "Gracias, Ricardo, for breaking my fall."

"De nada," Ricardo wheezed.

They both laid there staring at the sky for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Diego forced his weary body up and hoisted his friend to his feet. "Before you rudely pulled me out of the tree, I glimpsed an alcove a few yards over there." He pointed in the direction opposite the bear cave.

As the steady downpour continued, they huddled in the makeshift shelter. The mud floor wasn't much and the overhanging brush did little to protect them from the elements, but it was bear-free. They shrugged out of their jackets—well, halfway out of their jackets—and positioned them over their heads.

Ricardo shifted to stretch his back. "Did you really carry me across the desert?"

"Almost two miles."

"I guess if you hadn't, they would have shot me right there."

Diego nodded.

"Gracias." There was a genuine tone to Ricardo's voice rarely heard. "I feel bad about the little joke I planned for you tonight while I enjoyed dinner with Lolita."

"Don Carlos and Doña Catalina invited us both."

"Sí, but another commitment was going to prevent you from attending."

"Oh?"

"You had a date at the cuartel. More specifically, the jail."

Diego grinned. "Sergeant Garcia is onto your tricks, Ricardo."

"That is why I convinced Lalo Peralta to inform the sergeant how you stole several books from his library. These were exceptionally valuable editions, of course. You do have excellent taste."

"Don't feel too guilty." Diego laughed. "As long as we are making confessions, I asked Audre Ruiz to report that you stole two donkeys from his rancho."

"A pair of jackasses? That's the best you could do?"

Still laughing, Diego nodded. "If it's any consolation, they were his two finest jackasses."

"Hmm, that's what Lolita is going to think of us. In our race to get to Antelope Valley, we neglected to inform her we would miss dinner and be gone a few days. Very rude of you, Diego."

"Indeed, very rude of you, Ricardo. Let's hope she takes pity on our predicament and forgets that small detail."

When the rain slowed to a drizzle, Ricardo let the jacket drop and peered at the sky. A sliver of moon shone through a break in the clouds. "What time do you suppose it is?"

"How am I to know? They stole my watch."

"You are el Zorro. Can't you tell by the position of the moon or the stars?"

Diego rolled his eyes as he got up and stretched his stiff muscles. "Let's go."

"What's wrong with staying here? The storm erased our tracks."

"It's logical we're heading for the pueblo. We also left behind a canteen and saddlebag."

Ricardo slid his arm through the sleeve. "More reason we should have followed my plan."

"Considering your innate sense of direction guided us into a bear den and the del Amo luck led to an ungraceful exit from a tree, I'll stick with my instincts."

"Señor Zorro took us for a tumble down a hill. I say that puts us even."

Refusing to listen to anymore, Diego turned and began walking. When he felt the tug at his wrist, he gave it good yank to get Ricardo moving. They trudged along the muddy landscape in silence.

In spite of the sticky air, they navigated several miles by the time the first hint of light appeared on the horizon. Ricardo peered over his shoulder. "We're leaving a trail a blind man can follow."

"Once we reach those rock formations," Diego pointed ahead, "we can hide until my father and Sergeant Garcia find us. Valerio and his men will have to split up, giving us a better chance of subduing them."

"Sounds like a plan. Not that we have much choice," Ricardo quipped.

The rumble of hooves sent blood draining from both their faces. In the same instant, they turned to see a scruffy rider descending on their position. "Run," Diego shouted.

A loud boom reverberated. The bullet whizzed past Diego's ear.

Ricardo dared a glimpse behind. "It's Andrés. He's alone."

"Remember Mateo and Joaquin?"

Ricardo grinned. The duo slowed. Waiting for the perfect moment, they turned and leaped out of the horse's path. Diego snatched Andrés from the saddle, knocked him unconscious and seized his sword.

The animal stopped and reared. "Whoa, boy, easy," Ricardo cooed softly, getting close enough to slide the rifle from its sheath and grab the whip. More hooves shook the ground. Four riders charged forth.

"Let's go," Diego said.

They dove behind a cropping of boulders, bullets ricocheting off the stone. From there, they kept their heads down and crawled to a higher vantage point. Pressing their backs against a smooth slab, Ricardo passed Diego the rifle. "With this bracelet, I don't want to risk wasting the shot if you get edgy."

"You may not be much when it comes to fencing left-handed," Diego gave him the sword in turn, "but you can stab them with it."

Ricardo chuckled. "If you don't make it out of this, Diego, I shall tell Lolita you fought to the very end."

Not missing a beat, Diego winked. "I'll be sure to do the same."

The voices below grew silent, but Diego heard a horse's snort. After exchanging places, he kept on his knees and peered around the edge. He spied Itzal dismounting and creeping up the formation, pistol in hand. Diego inhaled a deep breath and signaled his friend he had a target.

In one quick motion, he rose up, propped the barrel on the top of the slab, aimed and squeezed the trigger. Just as quickly, he dropped back down, not waiting to see if he hit his mark.

"They're armed," Gaspar yelled.

"Itzal's down," Jaime yelled.

"They only had the one shot," Valerio replied. "Get them."

Once again, they exchanged places, hoping to hide from view long enough to spring an attack. Diego drew the knife from his sash while Ricardo tightened his grip on the rapier.

Approaching footsteps grew closer. Diego closed his eyes and listened. He spread his fingers and then pointed over his shoulder, indicating the man was about five feet behind them and getting closer.

Ricardo shifted the rapier from left hand to right and grabbed the whip. With one snap of his wrist, he sent the pistol flying from Jaime's grip. Diego pounced, delivering a punch to Jaime's jaw.

As Ricardo went for the fallen pistol, a shot resounded, forcing them to take cover without it.

Footsteps grew closer on both flanks. Knife still in hand, Diego waited. He held his breath when the steps stopped just on the other side of the rock. He glimpsed Ricardo ready to wield the sword.

A clatter in front of them caused Ricardo to snap his head in that direction. All at once, the bandidos descended. Diego plunged his knife into the shin of his assailant, eliciting a sharp yelp from Gaspar who tumbled face first into the dirt.

In the same instant, a shot echoed to his left. Diego twisted, exhaling in relief that Ricardo knocked the firearm out of line with his blade. Valerio jumped rearward and drew his sword. Ricardo met the attack awkwardly with his left hand while he tried to stand up.

Diego managed to reach the whip. With a crack of leather, he disarmed Valerio. As Ricardo pressed the point of the blade to the bandit leader's chest, Gaspar stirred. Spying the beast reaching for Jaime's unspent firearm, Diego instinctively lunged for it, unbalancing his friend.

Valerio charged Ricardo, slamming him into the boulder.

"Alto, Señores," Diego ordered, aiming the pistol at Valerio.

Only Ricardo, still in fighting mode, didn't stop his right hook in time. As it struck Valerio in the chin, he wrenched Diego catching him unawares. Gaspar's speed belied his size and injury. In the blink of an eye, he sprung to his feet and snatched the pistol from Diego.

"Duck!"

Diego didn't think twice. He obeyed Ricardo's command, looking up to watch his friend's dagger plunge in Gaspar's chest. The beast staggered and fell back.

In the commotion, Valerio recovered his sword. Ricardo went for his.

"Allow me," Diego said, taking the rapier from his friend. Flashing the white, toothy grin of the fox, he blocked Valerio's lunge and went on the offensive. Blades clashed; the blows came fast and hard. A quick riposte disarmed his opponent and Diego aimed the point at Valerio's throat. "Now where is the key?"

Valerio smirked. "Who says there is one?"

"Why you—" Ricardo launched forward, but Diego held him back.

"No, that is exactly what he wants." Jaime began to rouse, so Diego ushered his prisoner to the left so Ricardo could retrieve the pistol Gaspar dropped. They herded the pair of bandidos to the bottom of the rock formation.

Itzal lay motionless where he fell from Diego's shot.

Andrés sat on the dirt rubbing his head. Peering in their direction, he gulped and attempted to sneak way, but Ricardo's threat had him raising his hands in defeat. Once the trio was tied up, they searched the pockets for the key to no avail.

Valerio grinned. "I told you there was no key." The quip earned him a swift kick in the thigh from Diego. He and Ricardo heaved them onto their mounts and rounded up the remaining two horses for themselves.

"You know, Diego," Ricardo said, pulling him away from the others, "Zorro was not too happy when I impersonated him in Monterey. Since we go back a long ways, I won't tell him about your claims."

Diego laughed. "Is it so hard to believe I am Zorro?"

"Gaspar snatched the pistol right from your palm!"

"And you fell for the one of the oldest tricks in the book when they threw a stone to distract us."

"Still, you should not make the fox angry, especially around a vat of water."

The mischievous glint in the brown eyes once again unnerved Diego. He had the sneaking suspicion Ricardo knew who was beneath the mask, yet refused to voice it aloud. After all, making wisecracks about Zorro with Diego unable defend him was a practical joker's dream come true.

He was unable to shrug off the notion that Ricardo planned the duel as another of his grand jokes, right down to his escorting Anna Maria to the field of honor and acting as his second. Taking a dunk in the vat of water did bruise—or rather drown—Ricardo's ego.

Two could play at this game.

"All this in exchange for allowing you to spent time alone with Lolita, eh? I do not think so, my friend." Diego pushed past him. "I will take my chances."

"Fine," Ricardo shrugged, "it's your life." He gathered the reins of the nearest steed and began mounting when the taut chain halted his progress. "Madre de Dios, I am tired of this."

Diego stood there smiling. "Would it not be easier if we put our respective horses side by side?"

Ricardo snorted, but complied. As he slipped his foot in the stirrup again, a loud throat clearing stopped him. Throwing his hands up in the air, he pivoted. "What now, Diego?"

"We should gather their reins first." Diego pointed to the bandidos.

"These chains need to come off soon. You're starting to sound like a nagging wife." He playfully held his nose. "However, a wife of mine would smell better."

Amid Diego's hearty laughter and several frustrating attempts, the duo managed to get in the saddles. Their chained wrists extended between them as they led their prisoners. A few quarrelsome yanks and a short time later, they arrived in front of the cuartel.

Corporal Reyes' eyes grew wide and he nearly dropped the rifle in his grasp. "Don Diego, Don Ricardo!"

"Buenos días, Corporal," Diego said, stifling a yawn. "Is Sergeant Garcia here?"

"He and Don Alejandro left yesterday with the soldiers looking for you. They have not come back."

"We have the bandidos Capitán Echevarría warned the sergeant about. The bodies of two more are at the Tujunga Rocks. If my father returns here, please inform him I'll be at home."

Reyes nodded and ordered the three privates who joined him at the gate to escort the prisoners to the jail cells. Without further ado, Diego and Ricardo bid the corporal adiós. When they reached the de la Vega hacienda, Ricardo growled as they dismounted.

"I still say we should have visited the blacksmith."

"As I told you a dozen times, there is a faster, easier way than Salvio pounding away on the irons or crafting a key. Trust the fox, eh?"

Ricardo snickered.

Cresencia ran from the hacienda as they entered the patio, Bernardo quick on her heels. "Don Diego, Don Ricardo, I am relieved to see you both safe." She bit her lower lip and added, "If a bit dirty. Not to mention you give new meaning to close friends."

Diego chuckled. "I am glad to see you, too."

"I think I prefer the sense of humor when it comes from my mouth," Ricardo quipped.

Cresencia shook her head. "Your father is still out searching for you."

"Gracias," Diego said. "Corporal Reyes told us."

Her eyes lit up at the grumbling stomachs. "I shall fix breakfast right away and have baths drawn."

"Food first, por favor," Ricardo interrupted.

She disappeared inside the hacienda. Bernardo stepped forward, his hands fluttering over his heart. Diego was about to verbally thank him when he caught his near slip. He settled for nodding his appreciation. Raising his wrist, he pointed to the manacle.

Bernardo smiled his understanding and vanished.

"How can he possibly get us out of these bracelets?" Ricardo asked, dragging Diego to the chairs.

"Bernardo used to perform magic tricks in Madrid for the children. He is a man of many talents."

Ricardo folded his free arm on the table and rested his head on it. Just then, Bernardo returned with a set of small tools secured in a leather pouch. The mute went to work, Ricardo holding tight to his doubts. "We should have visited the black—"

The distinctive click of a lock sounded. Diego shot him an "I told you so" glance as he massaged his sore wrist. Ricardo's face blushed as Bernardo set about removing his manacle.

"How do I apologize to him?"

"Don't worry." Diego's shoulders bounced as he struggled to keep a straight face. "He knows you excel at making a jackass of yourself."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

Cresencia delivered a tray brimming with fruits, nuts and juice. "I am certain you both are famished. The eggs and rolls will be ready soon." They devoured breakfast with zest, saving the last crumbs.

As they set their napkins on the table, Ricardo leaned back with a satisfied "ah." He emptied the goblet and yawned. "We should let Lolita worry about us a little longer. Facing a furious señorita without proper sleep is a bad idea."

Cresencia frowned. "In the frenzy, I don't believe anyone informed Señorita Pulido you were missing."

"She thinks we stood her up?" Ricardo exclaimed.

Diego, sensing his friend's next move, bolted from his chair and raced to the stables. He collided with Ricardo and they tumbled to the ground in an ungainly heap. Cresencia's soft laughter floated on the air. When they got a whiff of each other, they changed course in a mad dash to the waiting hot baths.

Less than an hour later, the two spotless, fresher smelling caballeros tethered their horses outside the gate of the Pulido rancho. Lolita's parents were renovating their patio, so they carefully navigated a path to the porch, avoiding puddles where the tiles had been removed.

A servant answered the door and fetched the señorita.

She was a vision of loveliness in the dark red gown. The color nearly matched her cheeks, but the wrath in Lolita's eyes faded when she saw Diego. Her delicate fingers caressed the bruise on his cheek. "Diego, what happened?" Just as quickly, she spun on Ricardo. "Did you hit him?"

"Me?" Ricardo spluttered. "I did no such thing. Vicious bandidos took us hostage. Tell her, Diego."

"Sí, we were ambushed yesterday afternoon."

"He wasn't the only one wounded. Look," Ricardo pointed to the scratch on his neck, "They nearly cut my throat." He bent over and pushed his hair aside. "They hit me on the head, too."

"I convinced Valerio, the bandido leader, to spare his life." Diego smiled as Lolita stepped closer, taking his arm. "I even had to carry Ricardo's unconscious body across the desert."

"That was very brave of you, Diego," she said, smiling dreamily.

Ricardo rolled his eyes. "If the hero acted at the start, we would not have ended up in that mess."

"Don't blame this on me. If you hadn't played all those practical jokes," Diego argued, "we'd have been in Antelope Valley two days ago."

Lolita straightened and drew away from Diego. "Antelope Valley? Is that where you were going? It's at least three days round trip." The wrath returned to her beautiful face. "You did not even have the courtesy to cancel dinner before you left!"

"Lolita, I can explain." Ricardo took her hands in his. "It was a spur of the moment affair. We had to get to Arabella before anyone else."

She glared daggers at him. "Arabella?"

"Old Poncio's horse," Ricardo explained. "You must have heard of her. There is no other woman. A señorita does not live than can compete with your beauty and your charm."

"Is that so?" She folded her arms over her chest. "I've heard stories of you and Diego romancing Anna Maria Verdugo in Monterey. At the drop of a hat, you both fled the pueblo and left her alone."

"Anna Maria is but a magpie next to a dove. She cannot hold a candle to you."

Steam may as well have spewed from Lolita's ears. Her fingers curled into fists as her arms dropped to her side. "What will you say about me to the next girl?"

"There won't be a next girl."

"Nice going, Ricardo," Diego quipped.

"Don't pin this on him, Diego. You are just as bad!" Lolita spun on her heels and marched toward the door. Ricardo attempted to stop her; she pivoted and shoved him hard in the chest.

He staggered and grabbed Diego to steady his footing, only it was too little, too late. He stumbled off the porch, dragging his friend with him. They landed with a large splash in a muddy puddle.

Diego growled. "You did that on purpose."

"I did not, although it would serve you right. Why did you have to mention Antelope Valley?"

"She'd hear it soon enough. You had the brilliant idea to mention another girl's name."

"Arabella is a horse!"

Ricardo shook the mud from his hands, some of the splatters hitting his friend in the face. Diego inhaled sharply to curb his temper and spit out the dirty water that landed in his mouth. He gathered a clump of mud and flung it at Ricardo. Before long, the duo was wrestling the murky puddle.

"Diego!"

The mud-caked head snapped toward his father's voice. Don Alejandro stood just inside the gate, a small smile tugging at his lips. His face displayed a mix of relief, amusement and reproach only a father could sport.

"Buenos días, Father."

"It warms my heart to see you safe, mi hijo, even if you do require a bath."

Sergeant Garcia stopped next to the elder de la Vega. His mouth dropped opened at the sight of his muddy friends. "Don Diego, Don Ricardo, what happened? We found the bodies at Tujunga Rocks. Corporal Reyes told us you brought the other bandidos in."

"It is a long story, Sergeant," Diego replied, shaking sludge from his hands as he rose.

"You can tell it to me at the cuartel."

Diego motioned to his wet, filthy clothes. "May we make the report after we get cleaned up—again," he shot Ricardo a glare, "and catch up on our sleep?"

Garcia shifted his weight from foot to foot and cleared his throat. "You can sleep in the jail. I am afraid you are both under arrest."

"Under arrest?" the duo cried in unison.

"On what charges?" Ricardo demanded.

"Well, Don Ricardo," Garcia paused, "Don Audre says you stole two donkeys from his rancho. Don Lalo filed a complaint that Don Diego stole some books from his library."

Diego and Ricardo looked at each other for a long minute before breaking out in laughter.

**The End**

* * *

A/N: Señorita Lolita Pulido, along with her parents Don Carlos and Doña Catalina, featured in Johnston McCulley's _The Curse of Capistrano_ (aka _The Mark of Zorro_), _The Further Adventures of Zorro_ and _Zorro Rides Again_.

This is my crack at the "Test of Friendship" challenge. The required ingredients: 1) Diego and Ricardo chained together; 2) Diego and Ricardo get muddy; 3) Diego taken red handed with a pistol in hand; and 4) Ricardo says, "Zorro will save us!" As before, combine ingredients, shake (don't stir), serve and enjoy.

Thank you for reading.


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